


you need a big god (big enough to hold your love)

by manya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, God!Akaashi, Gods, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Mutual Pining, i wrote a lot of this while watching studio ghibli films
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22450684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manya/pseuds/manya
Summary: Never love a human,his mother had told him, and Akaashi had almost laughed at the thought.Never,he had agreed.What is a human to a god?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 105





	1. what's a human to a god?

_Never love a human_ , his mother had told him, and Akaashi had almost laughed at the thought.

_Never_ , he had agreed. _What is a human to a god?_

Humans were creatures best watched from a distance. Soft-boned, weak-willed, and far more delicate than Akaashi could ever care for. Who would ever love something so fleeting? They passed through their short little life-spans, ignorant and messy, and then they died. What was there to love?

Other gods didn't agree, and Akaashi could only watch on in mild disapproval. He watched Oikawa as he fell for a human boy with spiky hair and scabby knees, watched as Oikawa took the form of a child the same age to visit him, watched as he pretended to grow with him.

“It won't end well.” he told Oikawa one day, when the other god had taken the form of a sixteen year old human boy in preparation of seeing his precious _Iwa-chan_.

Oikawa had smiled, a bitter and broken baring of teeth. “Does love ever end well, Keiji?”

Startled by both the answer and the look on Oikawa's face, Akaashi had remained silent. _Love_ , he wondered later. A strange thing to feel for a creature as short-lived as a human child. And yet, the cancerous obsession with humanity that took root in Oikawa affected more than one god. Sugawara fell for a plain and unassuming human named Sawamura, Shimuzu for a tiny, panicky young girl, and Asahi for a loud, short boy with ridiculous hair. Even the cool and aloof Tsukishima fell for a human, a boy with freckles sprinkled like stardust across his face.

It was mildly disturbing, the rate at which his fellows were succumbing to brief infatuation with the fragile little things. It provoked some serious thought; if they were enough to enrapture and entice the attention of the others, what kind of creatures were they truly? Could they be as banal and finicky as his mother had warned him?

“What's he like?” Akaashi asked one day, overcome by curiosity. He braced himself for the teasing he was sure would follow, but Oikawa only smiled pensively.

“He's wonderful.” he said. The conviction and wonder in Oikawa's eyes had the gears in Akaashi's head turning. 

He had to meet a human. He had to see one of these creatures up close and personal.

  


* * *

  


The human world was loud and hot and smelled of fumes. Akaashi hated it, but it had its good points too.

He quickly became enraptured with flowers; all the different colours, fragrances and structures. The way some would trail to the ground and others would stretch tall and proud, thin stalks wavering in the wind. If humans were as beautiful and smelled as nice, Akaashi would have no problem in seeing why the others had fallen so quickly.

One day in what he figures must be Spring, he spots a human male weaving his way amongst the flowers. His hands are in his pockets and his head is tilted up towards the sky, and he seems lost in thought. Akaashi watches him from a distance, taking in his strong shoulders and sharp jawline, his tanned skin and lazy stride. He's not what Akaashi imagined a human would look like; he's not small or weak looking, sickly or scared. It scares Akaashi a bit, the fact that this human has contradicted his expectations.

The human looks his way, grins and waves. His eyes are gold, and he has curious hair. Akaashi looks away and pretends he doesn't see.

  


* * *

  


“ _You_ , watching a human?” Kuroo laughs. His guffaw is obnoxiously loud, as always. “That is something I can honestly say no one was expecting.”

Akaashi feels embarrassed and defensive. “I wanted to see what the big deal was about.” he said softly, carefully arranging his expression in a way that won't betray a single emotion. “But I didn't see anything special.”

Kuroo shrugs, his movements lazy and controlled. “They vary, same as us.”

“They're nothing like us.”

That makes Kuroo laugh again, although this time it was just a chuckle and a shake of his head. “You're gonna get one big shock one of these days, buddy.”

  


* * *

  


The same human is amongst the flowers again. Akaashi watches him from a little bit away. He tries to be subtle about it, but the human has better senses than Akaashi expected and spots him almost immediately.

A big grin spreads across the creature's face and then he's bounding over, bright grin on his face. “Hi there! You're the guy that was here the other day, right?”

“Yes.” says Akaashi warily. The boy (he can't be any more than nineteen) is excited and happy, full of smiles and energy. Akaashi doesn't know how to respond.

“Bokuto Koutarou.” he introduces himself, sticking out a hand that's streaked in dirt. He seems to notice and lowers it quickly, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Akaashi,” is all he says.

Bokuto nods, his eyes never straying from Akaashi's face. “Are you new around here?”

“Something like that.” Akaashi agrees, turning his face towards the sea of flowers. It stretches for at least fifteen metres, and the flowers are waving lazily in the wind. “Do you tend the flowers here?”

“My mom planted them all herself.” Bokuto declares with a grin. “I agreed to water them and keep them all healthy since she got sick.”

“Hm.” he sneaks a look at Bokuto's face – the boy has turned to look at the flowers too, and the sun is reflecting off his face. This close, Akaashi can see the imperfections and blemishes on the surface of his skin, freckles and pimples and things Akaashi has never seen before (he's never realised before that gods have perfect skin. He's not sure why, but this feels like a revelation)

“So!” Bokuto turns back and Akaashi looks away quickly before he's caught staring, “Do you live close to here?”

“Not really.” Akaashi reaches out and strokes the petals of a nearby flower. The colour is vibrantly yellow and the petals feel pleasantly waxy. “What type of flower is this?”

“A tulip.” Bokuto seems largely unfazed that Akaashi keeps avoiding his questions. “ _Hopeless love_ or _cheerful thoughts and sunshine_.”

“Excuse me?”

“The meaning.” Bokuto clarifies. “Yellow tulips used to mean hopeless love, but the meaning sorta changed over the years to symbolise cheerful thoughts or sunshine.”

“Oh.” Akaashi says. He's bewildered, but he's struggling to hide it. “I didn't know flowers had meanings.”

“You didn't?”

“Well-” Akaashi begins to flounder, wondering if flower meanings are common knowledge that every human has.

Bokuto laughs, “I guess I just know of them 'cause of my mom. She runs a flower shop.”

“Ah. I see.” relieved, Akaashi feels his shoulders relax a little. “That's nice.” Bokuto nods cheerfully and looks like he's about to speak, but Akaashi cuts him off. “I should go now.”

He's not expecting Bokuto to look crestfallen, but the human looks honestly disappointed. “Oh, really? Well, I guess I'll see you around.”

Akaashi makes no promises. He vanishes with the wind as soon as Bokuto glances away.

  


* * *

  


“It's Iwa-chan's birthday soon.” Oikawa announces one day.

The two of them are sitting in a garden on the Far Shore, where time doesn't work and everything is silent and still. Akaashi used to think it was one of the most peaceful places in existence, but now he misses the caress of the wind.

“Oh?” he replies, unsure whether or not he should pretend to care.

“He's having a party. You should come.”

Akaashi turns to face him, aghast. “What could have possibly given you the impression that I wanted to attend a human's party?”

“I heard you talking to Kuroo about them. Humans, I mean. If you want to talk to one, there'll be lots there.”

He's about to refuse, when he realises that this will be a chance to meet Oikawa's revered Iwa-chan. He's been curious for a long time about what Oikawa sees in the boy, and he supposes that this is as good a chance as any. “Fine.” he says, and pretends not to notice Oikawa's face breaking into an expression of excitement.

  


* * *

  


“You look fantastic,” Oikawa beamed as they walked up the path towards the human's house. His long, strong fingers combed through Akaashi's curls, attempting to coax them into order, “You'll be breaking some poor human hearts tonight.”

Akaashi's nose scrunches up a little at the thought, “I would hope that they aren't so weak-hearted.” he says, and Oikawa laughs and pulls him along up the porch and to the door.

“Do I look okay?” he demands, and Akaashi is about to laugh before he realises that Oikawa is being serious.

He has never seen Oikawa being anything other than frightfully sure of himself, and this moment of insecurity makes Akaashi pause. Is this what love does – make you second-guess yourself until you're unsure of anything? “Yes, Oikawa-san,” he says at last, “You look lovely.”  
It's the truth, of course. Oikawa always looks lovely, and tonight is no exception. Nodding, Oikawa turns back towards the door and knocks confidently.

It's small, but Akaashi notices the brief flicker of nerves that crosses Oikawa's face right before the door opens to reveal a boy. He's shorter than Oikawa and far stockier, with thick cords of muscle standing out in his arms and a tight shirt revealing his very defined torso. “Oikawa.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa squeals as he throws himself forward and wraps his arms tight around the boy's neck. “Happy birthday!”

From an objective point of view, Akaashi can see why this human appeals to Oikawa – he's managed to catch the god with one arm, and he rolled his eyes even as he complained about Oikawa's weight. And yet, despite his exaggerated groaning, he's handling Oikawa's body with such care and gentleness, as if he actually thinks his weak human hands might cause Oikawa harm. It causes something to twinge in Akaashi's chest, an unfamiliar feeling of wistful envy; he's never seen Oikawa smile so wide.

His thought process is cut short as Oikawa turns around, still holding tight to his Iwa-chan. “Oh, and this is Akaashi-kun!”

Iwa-chan nods, his brown eyes warm and serious. “I've heard a lot about you. It's a pleasure to finally be able to put a face to the name.”

The pure sincerity in his voice and eyes causes a flood of awkwardness in Akaashi, and he clears his throat and hopes he isn't blushing (gods aren't supposed to _blush_ , it was such a human thing to do). “Same to you. Ah, happy birthday.” he says, avoiding looking directly at the human. 

Sensing his friend's abrupt discomfort, Oikawa tugged on one of Iwa-chan's ears. “It's cold out here, you brute. Aren't you going to be a gentleman and invite us in?”

“Fuck off, Oikawa.” Iwa-chan swatted at Oikawa's hand, but moved diligently aside to allow them entry. Oikawa rushes in, giggling and tugging at his human's hand as he begins asking questions about the guest list. Akaashi follows after them, albeit far slower – the house smells strange, although Akaashi supposes it must just be Iwa-chan's natural scent. It smells of something sharp and chemical (cleaning supplies, he supposes), and a warm, sweet smell that Akaashi had always associated with evenings by a fire.

It's loud. Music is pounding so hard that Akaashi can feel the vibrations through the rubber soles of the human shoes Oikawa had forced on him, can feel the thrum of the bass deep in his chest. It's dark in the room that they're lead into, but there are some colourful lights that seem to flash in time with the music, and there are enough bodies in the space that Akaashi doesn't feel isolated in the dark. The humans are moving, twisting and winding and pulsing in time to the music, and the sparse and irregular lighting makes the movements look jerky and uncontrollable, yet smooth and unnatural at the same time. It's like nothing Akaashi has ever seen, and he has to pause for a moment in the entryway. He's startled. He hadn't anticipated a human gathering to be so loud, so robust. The humans are laughing and shouting and chatting and singing, and he can't look away. He knows he must look ridiculous, standing in the doorway and staring wide-eyed at everyone, but he can't tear his eyes away.

Oikawa is a few steps ahead of him, laughing at something Iwa-chan said. He glaces around with a big grin, ready to share the joke, but pauses when he sees Akaashi standing frozen. Something flashes across his face (something that looks like pity, but is gone before Akaashi can truly identify it), and he says something to Iwa-chan before returning to Akaashi's side. “Are you alright?” his voice is loud in order to be heard above the music and his eyes are wide and concerned, shining in the dark.

_It feels like standing in the middle of a summer storm_ , Akaashi wants to tell him, but the song has changed and the humans are cheering and it seems like too much effort to try to explain himself, so he just nods. Oikawa smiles, reassuring, and takes his hand – the other god's fingers are always cool and supple, like the river in the eastern Tohoku region he personifies. It's calming to be in contact with, and Akaashi relaxes.

“Come on, it'll be less loud in the kitchen.” Oikawa shouts, tugging at him gently. Akaashi goes, slightly reluctant to leave the pounding, glowing, magical room.

The kitchen is indeed quieter, but not by much. A group of boys are gathered around a table in the middle of the room, holding bottles and shouting and hooting and laughing. Iwa-chan is sitting amongst them, and Oikawa lets go of Akaashi's hand and bounces over to him. Uncertain of what else to do, Akaashi moves to follow.

Before he can really commit to anything more than a single step forward, a voice is calling “Hey, Akaashi, right!”

The surprise of someone knowing his name in a place like this has him turning without thought, and he comes face to face with a human with very large hair. A spark of recognition fires somewhere in Akaashi's head, and his mouth is forming the name before he's even fully remembered it. “Bokuto-san.”

“You remember me!” he exclaims, looking inordinately pleased with himself. “Awesome!”

“What are you doing here?” he knows that he's being a bit rude, but these humans keep catching him off-guard. If there's one thing Akaashi _hates_ , it's being caught off-guard.

“It's Iwaizumi's birthday!”

“Who's Iwaizumi?” Akaashi asks without thinking.

“That guy!” Bokuto points a finger at Iwa-chan, and Akaashi realises that he should have guessed 'Iwa-chan' couldn't possibly be his real name considering Oikawa's penchant for nicknames. “If you don't know Iwaizumi, how'd ya get invited? I never see you around here.”

“I'm a friend of Oikawa-san.” 

“Oooooh, cool!” Bokuto grins. Akaashi wonders if his face gets tired from smiling so much. “So, are you liking the party?”

“I only just arrived.” Akaashi said. Truthfully, he still isn't sure what to think about the coincidence of the single human he had previously met having unexpected ties to Oikawa's favourite human.

“I'll get you a drink!” He's gone in a flash of white-streaked hair, before Akaashi can open his mouth to decline. Akaashi stands for a moment, tugging at the human shirt Oikawa had given him – the material is scratchy and uncomfortable, and Akaashi thinks he would give anything to be in the familiar comfort of his favourite yukata. “Here!” The sudden reappearance of Bokuto makes Akaashi jump, but he regains his composure quickly and takes the bottle Bokuto is offering to him. “Hope you like cider!”

Akaashi doesn't know what cider is, but he smiles slightly in thanks and takes a sip to be polite. The taste is tart and sweet against his tongue and he can feel Bokuto's gaze heavy on the side of his face, and the intensity of it all is almost overwhelming. He lowers the bottle from his lips and meets Bokuto's gaze. “It's nice.” he says, although he isn't entirely sure whether he likes the taste or not. He doesn't hate it, anyway.

“Good.” Bokuto smiles, and takes a swig from his own bottle. He doesn't take his eyes away from Akaashi the whole time, and Akaashi doesn't look away either. The whole exchange feels electric and huge, outstanding and quiet in its magnitude. If this was what humanity was like, Akaashi wanted more. 

The bottle is lowered from Bokuto's face, his lips curving into a grin as he opens his mouth to say something, but before he can say a word someone speaks from behind him. “Oho ho ho?”

Bokuto whips his head around, a laugh tumbling from his throat. “Oh _ho_ ho ho?”

Akaashi's brain may have actually screeched to a halt and ceased working, because there is _no way_ he is currently watching _Kuroo_ approach and throw his arm around Bokuto. He blinks once, twice, three times, but Kuroo is still there. “Kuroo?” his voice slightly faint from surprise, but Kuroo is a god and hears him with no problems.

“Akaashi! You actually came!” he cheered, reaching out to ruffle Akaashi's hair. “Great! It'll do you some good to finally leave home!”

“You know each other?” Bokuto's eyes are huge, and he keeps looking back and forth between them.

“Old friends.” Kuroo says with ease, shrugging a shoulder with a lions grace. He grins, and his teeth shine sharp and dangerous – Akaashi wonders how any human could mistake Kuroo for one of their own when he was so obviously _other_. “We go back a long way.”

It feels surreal, to be standing in a world so different from the Far Shore and yet be surrounded by the familiar faces of Kuroo and Oikawa. The strangeness of it hits him and leaves him breathless for a moment, and all he can do is stare at Kuroo and Bokuto like an idiot. The same look that had crossed Oikawa's face for that split second now flashes across Kuroo's. It's sympathy, a look that says _I remember feeling like that, like a word that doesn't exist and a colour that's never been imagined_. He claps a hand to Akaashi's shoulder and squeezes.

“Hey, let's dance!” Bokuto bursts out. He's been affected by the strange mood that encompassed Akaashi all of a sudden, and is clearly desperate to distract him from his mood dip.

“Great idea, Bo.” Kuroo said smoothly, his feline grin sweeping across his face once again. “I'm gonna go see if I can drag Kenma out of his room.”

Kuroo bows dramatically as he takes his leave, and suddenly it's just Akaashi and Bokuto. The human smiles, suddenly shy, and holds out his hand. “Wanna go dance?”

Dancing wasn't very high up on the list of things that Akaashi enjoyed doing, but he was gripped by the sudden need to shed the melancholy feeling of _not belonging_. It wasn't something a god was supposed to feel. Akaashi nodded and took Bokuto's hand, marveling at once at the feel of it. It's nothing like Oikawa's – instead of the smooth suppleness, Bokuto's hand is warm and calloused, tough and soft and slightly damp from sweat and the condensation of the bottle he had been holding. His grip is gentle but firm and his hand practically engulfs Akaashi's own, and Akaashi thinks quite suddenly that he wouldn't mind holding onto this hand forever.

Bokuto leads him out onto the dancefloor, where the music is pounding and the lights are flashing. Delight crawls in Akaashi's belly, and he can feel a small, satisfied smile growing on his lips. He _likes_ this, the music and the dark and the vibrations and the warmth of Bokuto's hand in his. He wonders if all this feels the same for Bokuto. He wonders if the human had been out watering flowers today. He wonders if maybe he's moving too fast, if he should step back because he thinks he might be enjoying this human party just a little too much.

Then Bokuto pulls him closer in the dark and begins moving, hips dipping low and arms holding Akaashi's waist, and Akaashi stops wondering.

  


* * *

  


When he returns home hours later, the silence of the Far Shore is oppressive. Akaashi feels bereft, as if the lack of pounding bass in his chest was a physical loss. His cheek still feels warm where Bokuto had pressed his lips against it in farewell.


	2. you and me in a dark room

“Bo wants to see you again.”

The declaration causes Akaashi to startle, not having heard any approach. He turns from the pool of water he had been purifying to see Kuroo loping up behind him with his usual brand of feral grace. “Kuroo-san.” He greets. He says nothing about his statement – he doesn’t know what to say.

Kuroo hums back his own greeting as he settles down next to the pool. It sparkles and glimmers too much to show any clear reflection on its surface, but that doesn’t stop Kuroo from attempting to use it to fix his hair. “He likes you a lot, I think.”

Embarrassed, Akaashi returned his attention back to his purification ritual. “I’m sorry. I should not have encouraged him.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Kuroo said as he gave up on his hair. “I’m asking if you’d like to see him again.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi says, and he speaks the truth. Humans and gods are not supposed to mix – his mother had always been sure to drill that fact into him. Gods should be cold and impartial, regal and pure. To deface oneself by mingling with humans would be the ultimate blasphemy. 

“I can almost hear all the stupidly backwards thoughts you’re thinking in there.” Kuroo pulls a face at him.

“I’m not being stupid, I’m being realistic. I _can’t_ just pretend like starting some ridiculous tryst with a human is a sound decision. I don’t agree when it’s you or Oikawa-san or Sugawara-san doing it, so it would be entirely inappropriate and hypocritical for myself to do the same thing.”

Sighing, Kuroo stretched back on the grass by the pool. Because they were on the Far Shore, the grass was spiky and unyielding, but Kuroo barely seemed to notice. They were silent for an indeterminable amount of time; the quiet stretched between them like pulled taffy, accentuated by the unbroken stillness of the Far Shore air. “I met Kenma almost fourteen years ago. Can you believe that?” Kuroo spoke up suddenly, “He’s going to be twenty soon. It seems like it’s gone by in no time at all. I love the kid, Akaashi. It wasn’t a _decision_. There’s nothing in life that you get less choice in than love. And it took me a stupidly long amount of time to realise that what I was feeling was love. He’s my best friend.”

Akaashi was silent for another long moment, plucking at the grass around him with his fingers. The extremely personal tone in Kuroo’s voice was getting to him more than he’d like to admit. “Does he know what you are?”

After a brief hesitation, Kuroo sighs and glances away, “Yeah. He does.”

“Kuroo-san! To reveal yourself like that-!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Irresponsible and all that jazz, right?” Kuroo rolled his eyes dramatically. “I know. But I couldn’t help it. You can’t keep secrets from your best friend, you know?”

Akaashi didn’t know. He didn’t have a best friend, nor secrets to keep from them.

“Look,” Kuroo scrubbed at his face, a human gesture that seemed oddly out of place with his otherworldly countenance. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with the guy, alright? It’s just.. damn, you’ve met him twice and he can’t stop talking about you. He just wants to see you again. Bokuto is my friend, and so are you. He’s a good guy.”

It was suddenly remarkably difficult to meet Kuroo’s eyes. “I know he’s a.. good guy.”

“Then give him a chance. I know it’s been kinda ingrained in you to dislike humans, but they’re not that bad. Come to the cinema with us.”

“Cinema?”

“Yeah. Just.. leave the Far Shore. Even for a little while. I know Oikawa’s been on your ass about spending so much time on your own lately.”

“He has.” Akaashi confessed quietly. He swirls his finger around in the water of the pool, watching the cool ripples disturb the glistening surface. “I will think about it, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo nodded and finally stood up, leaving Akaashi alone by the poolside once more.

* * *

There were few places Akaashi could think of that he would have liked to be at less. The building was loud and colourful with groups of people laughing and chatting and joking with each other, and the sights and sounds nearly overwhelmed him. The carpeted ground beneath his feet feels unpleasantly sticky, and there's an unbearably sweet smell on the air. Akaashi is so distracted by his surroundings that he barely notices Kuroo trying to catch his attention, until his friend's hand lands heavily on his shoulder.

“You listening?”

“Hm?” Akaashi's eyes are busy roving the crowds, drinking in the sight of the many humans socialising. “Oh, not really.”

“Akaashi,” Kuroo whines, jutting his lower lip out like a child, “I'm trying to introduce you to Kenma!”

That catches his attention, and Akaashi turns fully to face Kuroo and his companion. At first he thinks that Kuroo was lying just to get his focus on him, because Kuroo appears to be alone. But then he notices the top of a head under Kuroo's arm, and he tilts his head to get a better look; Kuroo's human friend is tiny, with artificially blond hair that hangs over his face. “Hello,” Akaashi says mildly. Kenma doesn't reply – his attention seems to be solely focused on the device in his hands. It's a foreign little piece of technology to Akaashi, who has never seen anything like it before, but Kenma's fingers fly over the keys with intimate familiarity. Akaashi is about to shrug and turn away, unwilling to try to engage with someone whose attention is so clearly diverted elsewhere, before he notices something. Contrary to his initial impression, Kenma is not solely engaged with the object in his hands – he only appears to be. A sharp, golden eye peeks out from behind a curtain of hair and seems to size Akaashi up.

Bemused, Akaashi turns to Kuroo, who simply grins with what looks like pride before glancing back at Kenma. His face softens considerably until his expression is undeniably fond. “He won't speak until he defeats the boss on this level.”

Though he has no idea what this means, Akaashi nods as though it makes sense. “Okay. Where is Oikawa-san?”

“Should be here soon.” Kuroo pulls away from Kenma slightly to check the time on his watch. Akaashi doesn't miss the way Kenma sways back into him to lessen the distance.

“Tooru has been wanting to see this movie for a while now. He won't be late.” Kenma spoke up, his voice soft and slightly muffled from behind his hair. He glances up at Akaashi, lightning-fast, and then back to his game.

Akaashi just nods and goes back to observing his surroundings. The human custom of sitting together in groups in a darkened room to watch filmed stories with strangers seemed strange to him, but Kuroo had involved Oikawa, and the two of them had practically bullied him until he had agreed to come along on their “cinema date”. Now that he was here however, he was regretting ever saying yes.

“Kei-chan! You came!” Oikawa's squeal of delight was loud even amongst the general hubbub of humans waiting around the room, and many winced slightly at the sheer pitch of it. Strolling beside him, Iwaizumi seemed unaffected by Oikawa's excitement, even going so far as to roll his eyes and nudge at his arm as they made their way over.

“Yes.” Akaashi nodded his greeting to Iwaizumi, who gave him a half-smile in return.

“I've been waiting to see this sequel to _General Zedd_ since forever!” Oikawa exclaims, brandishing six tickets. “It's gonna be _so good_!”

Before anyone could comment (and Kuroo definitely looked as though he wanted to), there was a loud whoop from the doorway. Kuroo whooped in reply, the sheer volume of his voice causing Kenma to shy away like an angry cat. Bokuto was bounding towards them, a smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Kurbro!”

“Brokuto!” Kuroo opened his arms wide for a hug, and Bokuto barrelled into him with enough force to cause them to travel back a few steps.

“I can't believe I'm witnessing this,” Iwaizumi murmured to Oikawa, who grinned.

Bokuto and Kuroo had broken apart, but were still chatting genially with each other. Bokuto's eyes travelled from person to person, beaming his greetings, and when his eyes fell on Akaashi, his smile widened impossibly further. “Akaashi!”

“Hello, Bokuto-san.” Mortifyingly, he could feel his cheeks redden under the weight of Bokuto's golden eyes, a fact he was certain would not pass unnoticed by Kuroo or Oikawa.

To his surprise, Bokuto bounced over and gave him a nice strong hug. For a long moment, Akaashi’s hands flailed in mid-air – he was not hugged very often (ie. at all), and had no idea what to do with his arms. After fighting the urge to simply push the human away, he settled on gripping the back of Bokuto’s jacket. The thin cotton shirt Bokuto wore under the jacket made it exceptionally easy to feel the well-toned mass of muscle that made up Bokuto’s stomach pressing against his own. He could hear the hot wetness of his heartbeat and the easy airiness of his breathing. He smelled like apples.

Blushing even darker, Akaashi pulled away and refused to meet anyone’s eyes. “Perhaps we should go.”

By some small mercy, Oikawa and Kuroo seemed to have reached the unanimous decision to not tease Akaashi, and began leading the group on. Seemingly unaware of Akaashi’s embarrassment, Bokuto slows his pace to walk next to him and beams. “Hey, hey, so how have you been? I’d kinda been hoping to see you after the party but, umm..” he scratched his wild hair awkwardly, almost shyly. “You just sorta disappeared.”

“Yes.. I had some things I needed to attend to. But I’ve been well.” 

“Good! I’ve been good too, I’ve mainly been helping out in my mom’s flower shop! Hey, you should visit sometime! I know you like flowers! Actually, I was arranging a bouquet for a lady last week, and-“ Bokuto was speaking at a mile a minute, and most of his words sailed right over Akaashi’s head. Before, he would have wondered if all humans were as turbulently excitable as Bokuto, but now with his newly developing experience he could recognise that Bokuto was particularly unique. Akaashi let him speak, glancing up from beneath the sweep of his eyelashes just to watch. It was a curious thing, watching Bokuto chatter away – he was possibly the most animated person Akaashi had ever come across.

“Bo,” Kuroo complained over his shoulder, “You gotta stop talking.”

Chagrined, Bokuto did as he was told. He shot Akaashi a cheeky little smile, and leaned in to whisper, “Kuroo hates it when people talk during movies.” His breath is warm and sweet and tickles Akaashi’s ear, and he can’t help but recall the farewell kiss Bokuto had pressed to his cheek after their previous encounter. He almost goes so far as to pray for strength, only to sharply remind himself that he was a god himself and that such an action would be entirely counter-productive.

“Is that so?” he murmurs instead, and his voice comes out soft and even as they take their seats in what Oikawa dubbed “the theatre” (it’s not much of a theatre, he thinks, little more than a darkened room with rows of seats facing a blank screen). He’s seated with Bokuto on one side (because Oikawa has always loved to test his self-control) and Kuroo on the other. It’s difficult to ignore Kuroo’s sly pokes and nudges, but Akaashi has become something of a master at ignoring his friends no matter how extreme their antics, and pays him no mind.

When the already dim lights go out completely, they are plunged into darkness. Akaashi tenses despite himself ( _a god should not be afraid of the dark, the dark should be afraid of the gods_ ), but within a handful of seconds the screen on the wall has lit up. He knows Kuroo didn’t miss him tense, he can feel the weight of his concerned stare on the side of his face, but the more surprising fact is that _Bokuto_ caught the tension too. For someone so exuberant and larger than life, the sharpness in his eyes was startling. Akaashi has to prevent himself from jerking away through sheer force of will when Bokuto reaches out and strokes a finger across his wrist. The feeling of someone else’s skin against his own is foreign – he’s not used to being touched, and isn’t sure what the appropriate reaction should be. It takes almost a full minute of Bokuto gently stroking the top of his hand before he realises the action is soothing – he finds himself relaxing just slightly. After a few more strokes of Bokuto’s finger, he turns his wrist over so the underside is exposed. Bokuto smiles carefully at him in the dark, and drags his finger across the sensitive flesh.

It sends an almost illicit thrill straight to Akaashi’s core – here he is, sitting in the dark with a _human_ playing with one of the most vulnerable parts of his corporeal body. If his mother were still alive, he could only imagine what she would say. Akaashi’s breath nearly catches in his throat, every fibre of his being focused on the rhythmic _up-down_ movement of Bokuto’s calloused thumb. The human didn’t even realise how much of a privilege he was being granted, how very unusual it was for Akaashi to bare any part of himself to anyone, much less somewhere as unprotected as his thin-skinned wrist. Kuroo, howerver, _does_ realise how unusual it is, and Akaashi has to focus on ignoring his wide-eyed glances and raised eyebrows.

Then the movie starts up, and Bokuto removes his hand. A pang of something almost like _disappointment_ follows, which is startling in and of itself. If anything, Akaashi should be _relieved_ that the human had removed his hand from Akaashi’s hallowed flesh. (He’s not relieved. He’s gotten a taste for physical contact from this human who gives it out so casually, without a second thought, and it wasn’t enough. He wants more, and the thought is terrifying.)

For the entirety of the movie, Akaashi refrains from looking at Bokuto. The atmosphere in the cinema is large and intense – the sense of anticipation, of sitting in the dark with strangers for the mutual enjoyment of a visual story, sharing laughs and gasps and full ranges of emotion with people whose faces you may never even get to see. It’s almost too much for him, and he glances at Kuroo and Oikawa a few times just to keep himself grounded; their familiar presences are reminders that he’s not alone as an outsider in the human world. Oikawa’s eyes are wide and shining, his face frozen in an expression of pure enrapture – it’s endearing, almost, how amazed he is by the movie. Kuroo’s attention is mostly taken up by Kenma, but he spares a few glances Akaashi’s way too.

It all feels too much, too close. He’s not sure if he entirely likes the intensity of these human experiences, but he’s coming to realise that he doesn’t hate them as much as he should (it feels like a betrayal)


	3. flowershops and thunderstorms

“Have you noticed?” Oikawa asks one day.

The question is irritatingly vague, and Oikawa doesn’t offer any elaboration. He does it on purpose, of course, because he enjoys adding a dramatic flair to everything and forcing people to engage with whatever he’s about to reveal. Akaashi sighs and resigns himself to playing along. 

“Noticed what, Oikawa-san?”

“Ayakashi activity has increased.”

Akaashi’s fingers pause where he was brushing his hands over his yukata. “Is that so.” He says, though it isn’t really a question. Oikawa’s statement was far from what he had expected, and he finds himself annoyed by the simple fact that he had not, in fact, noticed any sort of increased demonic activity.

“Mhm.” Oikawa hums in answer to his not-really-a-question, and shrugs a delicate shoulder. “I expect you’ll be called down to purify some of the particularly corrupted areas.”

That, at least, is not a surprise. Akaashi is the best on the Far Shore at performing purification rituals, a fact which brings him great pride. “Why wasn’t I aware that the presence of ayakashi was increasing?”

Oikawa’s smile was lopsided and amused, his most genuine sort of smile. “Kei-chan, have you been to the human world since we all went to the cinema?”

Despite himself, Akaashi blushed. “No.” he mumbled, carefully avoiding Oikawa’s gaze. It was true that he had been avoiding returning to the human world for a while now – quite simply because it was a dangerous distraction, and he had to prevent himself from developing any ideas that might be unsuitable for a god of his stature.

“Well then.” Said Oikawa, as though that had sorted the entire issue out for them. Akaashi supposed it did. He sighed and got to his feet. The grass they had been resting in was stiff and slightly uncomfortable – it was an imitation of the meadows in the human world, conjured by Oikawa himself, but the Far Shore was not a place of cushy comfort. Thus, the grass was not as soft of vibrant as it might have been in the human world, no matter how hard Oikawa tried to mimic it.

As Akaashi prepared himself to leave, Oikawa slanted a lazy grin in his direction. That look on Oikawa’s face made him tense, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“According to Tetsu-chan, Owl-chan is very disappointed to have not seen you in so long.” Oikawa cooed, his fluffy hair blowing like spun cotton in the air despite the lack of wind.

Akaashi stared uncomprehendingly at his friend. “Owl-chan?”

“You know,” Oikawa positively _purred_ , “That handsome human with the wild hair you seemed so enchanted by at Iwa-chan’s? And then again at the cinema? The one that looks a little like those great horned owls?”

A blush stole over Akaashi’s pale face, lighting his cheeks up red and causing Oikawa to burst out laughing. Akaashi stepped back and vanished into a sudden gust of wind, taking his mortification with him.

* * *

He is sitting on the Mountain, nestled into sweet-smelling ferns and ripe mushrooms, when Yaku appears. The mountain air parts for him as though it had been expecting his arrival, and he settles himself amongst the undergrowth next to Akaashi.

“Yaku-san.” Akaashi greets. Questions linger in the undertones of his voice; unasked but understood, because the Mountain hears and expresses them for him through a wash of half-formed vegetation at their feet.

Yaku smiles his greeting, and then looks at the gnarled and confused roots that twist around their ankles. “How are you, Akaashi-san?”

“Fine.”

A sweet, cool breeze meanders its way down the Mountain’s face. They both pause for a moment to listen to its song. When it has whispered its way by and all is silent once more, Yaku turns back to Akaashi. “I’m here about the Baku.”

Akaashi blinks, taken by surprise. “The Dream Eaters?” The Baku are beasts best approached with caution, but he cannot imagine why Yaku, a strong and confident god in his own right, would be concerned enough to seek out external help.

“One in particular.” A frown has furrowed its way into Yaku’s tanned brow, disrupting the smooth skin there like wrinkles in an old parchment page. “His activities are… concerning.” 

“Is he not fulfilling his duties?”

Yaku exhales; it’s a sharp, impatient huff of breath that hovers on the Mountain air for several stretchy seconds before dissolving. “That is not the problem. He is performing his duties very enthusiastically.”

“What is the problem?” Akaashi prods. His bare toes curl in the damp soil, and he revels in his closeness with the earth while he waits for an answer.

“He is eating too much. It’s disrupting the balance of energy between the human world and the Far Shore.”

Akaashi absorbs this information in silence. The energy between the human world and the Far Shore is easily disrupted by any spiritual activity; the gods are frequently at work to keep the atmosphere balanced and calm. However, it is in a Baku’s nature to eat. They are greedy things who consume dreams and nightmares with their long tapered snouts, leaving humans to awake in the morning with shredded remnants of their dreams just out of reach of their recollection. Their bottomless stomachs make them an annoyance, but rarely a danger. Some humans even pray for a visit from a Baku - Akaashi has heard them, the melancholy, desperate cries for their nightmares and sour memories to be taken and eaten and destroyed.

“I am unsure if this is something that requires immediate intervention.” he says after a moment, into the silence that has settled between them like sand in calm waters. He takes a long look at Yaku then, “Yaku-san, how are you? Really?”

In the blue-green light of the Mountain’s forest, with the rolling azure sky above them and the emerald foliage cradling them, Yaku looks exhausted. His hair is in disarray, and there are deep bruise-like purple bags beneath his eyes, as though someone has dipped their thumbs into blackberry ink and painted crescent moons in the tender skin above his cheeks. He smiles, and it looks strained and wan. “I’m doing fine, Akaashi-san.” It’s a bald-faced lie, but before Akaashi can say anything Yaku continues. “How is your human?”

The question, while phrased innocently, has Akaashi stiffening defensively. “I don’t have a human.”

Yaku shrugs and doesn’t argue with him. That’s why they get on so well, possibly; they both enable and feed into their delusions of okay-ness, fine-ness, alright-ness. Akaashi will not mention Yaku’s obvious exhaustion, and Yaku will not mention Akaashi’s blatant refusal to establish basic emotional connections. It may not be the healthiest arrangement, but it works for them. If they wanted to be mothered and nagged, they would seek out Oikawa. If they wanted to sit in the company of someone who understood, but wouldn’t pry, they would sit together and enjoy the tranquil silence that comes with understanding.

After another few moments Yaku stands. As he dusts himself off, he glances back down to Akaashi and gives him another tired smile. “Keiji, could you do me a favour?”

A little startled by the use of his first name, Akaashi nods. 

“Let yourself be happy. Please.”

Before Akaashi can reply, Yaku turns to face the rounded trees and the Mountain sends a rush of wind to carry him away. Akaashi watches the breeze rustle the leaves above him as it speeds away, and he thinks.

* * *

Miasma hung in the air of the human world, thick and black and oppressive, the repulsive residue left by the yokai that took it upon themselves to spread fear and despair. Akaashi’s skin crawled, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Despite the discomfort that the proximity to the unholy aura of the miasma brought him, he got to work quickly.

There were many cities in the country that had to be purified – a distressing amount, truthfully. It took Akaashi almost two weeks to purify these places to a standard that he himself was pleased with, and even then he found himself worried about how many gateways to the Far Shore had opened up. The gateways were usually accessible in the dark corners of the world such as under beds and behind abandoned garden sheds, but the regularity of the gates opening up was startling.

“Akaashi-san.”

Hearing such a formal address for him in the human world was a surprise, and Akaashi turns around midway through his final purification ritual. “Kageyama-kun.” He observes, carefully making sure that his face was clear of any particular emotion. “May I help you?”

The young god looks nervous, but he bows respectfully. “I heard you were doing purification rituals.”

Akaashi glances at the purification symbols engraved into the ground at his feet, and then at the purifying incense he had lit by a tree, and then at the sacred candles burning around them. “...Yes.”

Kageyama blushed as he realised how ridiculous he had sounded. “Ah... my apologies for interrupting!” he bowed again, so deep his nose almost brushed the ground.

“Oh.. there’s no need for that..” Akaashi begins uncertainly. Despite being young, Kageyama had made quite a name for himself on the Far Shore thanks to his unnaturally fast development. He also had quite the reputation for being notoriously self-centred and difficult to work with, and so Akaashi found himself quite taken aback by how Kageyama was near prostrating himself on the ground in front of him. “Please do stand up, Kageyama-kun. Why did you seek me out?”

Kageyama straightens almost reluctantly, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “The ayakashi demons have been very active recently. The country was almost covered in miasma.”

“Yes.”

“It... it was especially bad in the Miyagi prefecture.”

Truthfully, Akaashi had no idea where the Miyagi prefecture was. Studying the geography of the human world wasn’t something he chose to waste his time with, but he had noticed that a particular area had been worse than others. He figured Kageyama knew what he was talking about, in any case. “Yes.”

“I, um...” Kageyama trails off into silence, staring at Akaashi and maintaining uncomfortably intense eye contact as though hoping that Akaashi would pick up on his meaning through the force of his thoughts alone.

After another moment of awkward silence, Akaashi sighs through his nose and waves a hand to extinguish the sacred candles. He figures he won’t be finishing his purification ritual anytime soon if this was the pace their conversation is going in. “Kageyama-kun, is there a particular reason that you are concerned with this particular area?”

“No!” Kageyama says so fast that he almost swallows his tongue, and has to spend a moment coughing. When he recovers, he says again, “No. I just... I was concerned about the rate of ayakashi appearances, and what it might mean for the humans living there.”

Akaashi eyes him suspiciously; it’s widely known that Kageyama has a particularly low regard for humans. “I see. So, you’re telling me that you’re worried about the local humans being harmed by the ayakashi activity. How noble of you, Kageyama-kun.” A deep flush spreads from Kageyama’s neck up to his face, and Akaashi watches curiously as his ears turn magenta. The younger god is normally so arrogantly proud, it’s strange to see him reduced to this flustered, sweaty mess he sees before him. A twinge of pity has Akaashi deciding to put the boy out of his misery. “However, I can’t help but think that perhaps you may have a more personal reason for seeking to ensure the area’s safety, hm?”

“I...” Kageyama looks away, defeated. “I suppose I do.”

After another moment of silence, Akaashi has to suppress the urge to sigh again. “Are you going to tell me, Kageyama-kun? The weather is lovely and I do enjoy your company, but I would prefer not to stand here all day.”

If possible, Kageyama went even redder. “Of course, I’m sorry! It’s- well, see, I met a boy there last month.” _Ah_ , Akaashi thought, seeing the look in Kageyama’s eyes. “He, ah.. he had been attacked by an ayakashi. He had fought back, quite well for a human, but he was hurt really badly. I stepped in, and..”

“Revealed yourself to him.” Akaashi guesses, and Kageyama nods. Akaashi is tired, suddenly. He doesn’t want to hear any more about the human boy Kageyama is clearly beginning to develop feelings for, even if he doesn’t realise it himself yet. “I see. I will do what I can, Kageyama-kun.”

“Thank you, Akaashi-san.” Kageyama sighs, and stands up straighter. “I’m sorry again for bothering you. I wouldn’t normally, it’s just that I- well, I promised him that he’d be safe now.”

After Kageyama leaves, Akaashi finishes the purification ritual. When it’s over, a wave of exhaustion overcomes him and he has to sit down. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised at what he’s learned today - it seems almost like karmic retribution that Kageyama, the most arrogant of all, should fall so low as to debase himself with a human. That thought is so like something his mother would say that Akaashi flinches, and chides himself in Kuroo’s voice: ‘ _Don’t be such a cockwagon, Akaashi!_ ’. The thought of his friend brings about thoughts of his own human problem, and he sighs and covers his face with his hands. It’s ridiculous of him to even entertain the thought of going to see Bokuto again, but he’s not in the habit of lying to himself - he knows what decision he’s going to make, and he knows it’s going to make both Kuroo and Oikawa very happy.

* * *

The flower shop is beautifully vibrant compared to the dull grey skies outside, and it takes Akaashi a moment to catch his bearings. Hanging baskets of ivy and flowers are distributed around the shop in no particular pattern, and the effect is delightfully mismatched. Leafy green plants create what seems like a maze around the shop and up to the counter, behind which a vast expanse of bouquets are on display. It’s beautiful, and Akaashi has to close his mouth after he has a good look around.

A bell tinkles as the door shuts, and Bokuto’s voice calls out “I’ll be right there!”. It’s only when he stands that Akaashi realises he had been crouching behind the counter - his attention is on a roll of twine in his hands, which he’s apparently trying to untangle. Akaashi can feel his nerves grip his stomach like a vice, even as he internally berates himself for being so ridiculous. Bokuto is only a human, after all, and it’s ridiculous to allow him to have such an effect on him. But then Bokuto looks up from the twine, and those golden eyes widen and Akaashi realises all at once that he’s made a terrible miscalculation. He may be immortal, but no one has ever looked at him like _that_ before.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto gasped, and then makes a ridiculous leap across the counter. He doesn’t quite jump high enough though, and ends up crashing down on the floor. Before Akaashi can so much as utter a sound of surprise Bokuto is back on his feet and running towards him. He skids to a stop just short of causing a collision between them in the entryway, and then stares at him with those golden eyes. “You’re here! I was so sure you didn’t want to see me again! How did you know where I work?”

Startled by Bokuto’s enthusiasm, Akaashi blurts out the truth without thinking. “I asked Kuroo-san.” he flushes as soon as the words are out, recalling Kuroo’s delighted ribbing. “He was very precise with his directions.”

“Ah,” Bokuto looks very pleased with himself all of a sudden. “Well, welcome to my family’s flower shop!” he gestures around grandly, and accidentally knocks a potted plant off a shelf and onto the ground. The ceramic pot shatters, and soft soil spills across the floorboards. “Oh, shit-”

Despite himself, Akaashi giggles -- Bokuto’s actions are charming in their extravagance, and he finds the ridiculousness of the situation endearing. _Oh no_ , he thinks, bringing his hand up to cover his smile, _pull yourself together!_. It’s easier said than done though, when Bokuto stares at his smile as though it’s a work of art. “It’s very beautiful here,” he says, trying to distract Bokuto; if he continues to gaze at him like that, Akaashi might do something stupid.

His words succeed in pulling Bokuto out of whatever trance he had been in, because he puts his hands on his hips and beams at the shop. “Thanks! It’s all my mom’s hard work, really. She put a huge amount of work into everything before- well.” he shrugs, but doesn’t continue.

Akaashi steps further into the shop, carefully eyeing the dark wooden floorboards and panelling along the walls. His eyes are cast down, but he glances up through his eyelashes to see Bokuto drinking in every move he made. It sends a little thrill down his spine, knowing that he’s being so closely watched - he’s not used to anyone being so attuned to his every movement. It’s exciting, and he can’t help the coy smile that curves over his face. He can see how this level of attention could be addicting, and why Oikawa and Kuroo have fallen so hard. 

Within moments, it becomes like a game; Akaashi winds his way through the greenery, and Bokuto tries to keep up. Every time Bokuto rounds the end of an aisle, all he can catch is the sight of Akaashi’s silky yukata slipping around the next corner. There are a few close calls that make Akaashi’s breath catch in his chest and his smile spread a little wider, particularly when he can hear Bokuto’s delighted laughter ringing out through the shop.

Bokuto puts genuine effort into trying to catch him, and it’s cute - he has no hope of catching a god if they don’t want to be caught. But Akaashi is thinking, even as he dodges and dances through the flowers and foliage. He’s thinking it may not be so bad if he’s caught, so long as it’s Bokuto that’s doing the catching. He knows it will be a small blow to his pride, but if the reward is that blinding smile then he figures it might be a worthy sacrifice.

The next time that Bokuto rounds the corner, he finds that Akaashi is just within touching distance. Laughing, he bounds over until he’s standing in front of him. “Found you!” he grins in delight. Akaashi leans against the wall in between two shelves of potted miniature palm trees, and watches through hooded eyes as Bokuto steps closer to him. This thing between them feels heady and dangerous - it makes him nervous, and his nerves make him dangerous. He wonders if Bokuto has any idea what he’s dealing with.

Apparently not, because Bokuto keeps advancing until they’re as close as they can be without touching. He’s taller, and Akaashi has to tilt his head back to keep eye contact. “You have.” he agrees softly, and raises an eyebrow.

Still grinning, Bokuto raises his hand - Akaashi tenses, unsure of what exactly Bokuto is planning to do, but suddenly there is a flower being presented right under his nose. “A gladiolus” is the only explanation Bokuto gives, although he looks uncharacteristically shy.

It’s dainty and pretty, several little pink and white blossoms dangling off the one stem. Akaashi accepts it with a tilt of his head, remembering their very first exchange in the field of flowers. “What does this one mean?”

“It symbolises a strong character,” Bokuto blushes slightly as he says this, and Akaashi wonders if there’s something more to the meaning.

He takes it anyway, enjoying the soft fragility of the petals against his fingers and the sweet scent. “It’s very beautiful, Bokuto-san. Thank you.”

“It’s like you.” Bokuto grins, his teeth white and gleaming. Akaashi feels like Bokuto could swallow him whole and he wouldn’t even protest. One of Bokuto’s large hands comes up yet again, this time to brush away a curl that had fallen across Akaashi’s face, and then stays there to cup his cheek. Ridiculously, Akaashi feels as though he can’t breathe. He’s a _god_ , he doesn’t even _need_ to breathe, but this close to Bokuto he feels like he can’t even think. The hand on his cheek is big enough that it could easily encompass his face, and Akaashi leans into it mindlessly. _This is nothing_ , he assures himself, _this means nothing._ A part of him thinks that he should put a stop to this foolishness immediately; he’s not Kuroo or Oikawa or any of his other fellow gods, he should know better than to let this thing between them keep growing. But another part of him (the louder part that sounds suspiciously like Oikawa) wonders if Bokuto is going to kiss him. _Do I want him to?_ His gaze falls to Bokuto’s lips, chapped and pink and right in front of him. _Yes_ , he thinks, _I want to be kissed_.

Bokuto notices Akaashi gazing at his mouth and smiles again, softer this time. His thumb begins to stroke over the soft skin of Akaashi’s cheek, even as he lowers his head and begins to close the distance between them. Akaashi’s heart feels as though it’s about to hammer straight out of his chest, but his lips part slightly and he can feel himself blush. Bokuto’s touch on his cheek feels searing, and Akaashi is quite suddenly desperate to know if Bokuto is as enthusiastic about kissing as he is about everything else. “Bokuto-san..” he breathes, and Bokuto pauses a few inches away from him.

Before he can respond, there’s a loud crack of thunder from outside and the skies open up to a torrential downpour of rain. They both turn to look out the window as the shop is lit up with a flash of lightning - for a split second it turns the flower shop into something otherworldly and stark, and lights up Bokuto’s hair and profile. Distracted by this, it takes Akaashi a moment or two to realise there’s something not right about this abrupt storm. “Whoa,” Bokuto says absently, eyes on the rain lashing against the windows, “That came out of nowhere, huh?”

“Oikawa-san.” Akaashi murmurs, frowning. He can feel the thrum of Oikawa’s emotion in the rain.

“What?”

Ignoring Bokuto’s confusion, Akaashi extricates himself from the nook they had been burrowed into. “I have to go, Bokuto-san.” he says, barely paying the human any attention as he winds his way back through the shop towards the door. He needs to get out and find somewhere to disappear without Bokuto seeing.

“Akaashi, wait!”

As soon as the door of the shop is open, wind whips at his face and yukata. He ignores Bokuto calling him, and moves quickly into the rain. He can tell when Bokuto has lost sight of him, and uses the opportunity to close his eyes and disappear to the Far Shore.

* * *

Oikawa was crying. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have been considered an overly unusual occurrence. Oikawa is an emotionally turbulent being (Akaashi can’t count the number of times Oikawa has flown into a rage over some small triviality or burst into tears at the slightest inconvenience), but this time Akaashi recognises as different. First of all, Oikawa has chosen an isolated, barren field deep into the North of the Far Shore, where the crops have withered into skeletal mockeries of wheat and the sky hangs as grey as gunmetal. Usually when Oikawa is upset he will seek a friend out to rage or rant or wail at, be it Akaashi or Kuroo or his precious Iwa-chan. 

“Oikawa-san.” Akaashi murmured as he approached his friend’s crouched form. The decayed crops beneath his feet were so brittle that they crunched loudly beneath his sandaled feet - Oikawa must have been aware of his approach long before he announced his presence, but he had yet to turn. The brown stalks of the withered plants towered above where he was crouched hugging his knees. As he neared, Akaashi could see his back heaving with the force of his sobs. “Oikawa-san,” he murmured again, reaching Oikawa and crouching down himself, “Is everything alright?”

When Oikawa raises his head, Akaashi has to force himself not to react. His friend’s face is red and puffy, his eyes wild and his hair sticking in all directions. Oikawa is always perfect, even when he cries, so to see him in this state of utter disarray... Akaashi is shaken, to say the very least. “It’s-” Oikawa says- or at least tries to. He chokes on a sob, shuts his eyes, and clenches his fists into his hair. “Iwa-chan.”

“What about him?” Akaashi’s mind is suddenly full of horrible images; death, injury, horrible accidents. Humans are so fragile, and there are limits to a god’s power - if Iwaizumi is truly injured than there may be very little that anyone can do for him. He thinks hard about any cures to human ailments he knows of before Oikawa diverts his attention with his next wail.

“He has a girlfriend.” He spits it out as if he’s saying something filthy, but the anguish in his eyes freezes Akaashi in his spot. He has no idea what to say - he had thought that Oikawa and Iwaizumi were… well, together. They spent so much time together, and every interaction Akaashi had witnessed between them had spoken of an intimate relationship. He was only beginning to understand the true intricacies of relationships, and hadn’t understood that it was possible for a platonic friendship to be built on intimacies albeit in a different way. And Oikawa... Well, Oikawa had been quite obviously interested in him, and had clearly wanted him. Akaashi wasn’t used to seeing Oikawa not get his own way.

Akaashi took a long, helpless moment trying to get his thoughts in order, and at last he swallowed. “I’m very sorry, Oikawa-san.” he says, struggling to convey his sincerity through his tone, but Oikawa was already shaking his head.

“You don’t get it.” He grinds out, face twisted in an expression Akaashi had never seen before. “You don’t- how could you understand? You’ve always thought me stupid for falling in love with a human, and now you think that belief is justified, right?”

“I- _no_ , Oikawa-san, I could never take any kind of satisfaction from your pain-” 

“Please go away.” Oikawa turned his face from him, hiding the look of exhaustion that had fallen across him. “Just… go.”

Stricken, Akaashi stood for a moment more before vanishing into thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i just wanted to say thank you all SO much for all the lovely comments, they've been such a joy to read and are such a confidence booster!

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii! so i actually originally posted this quite a while ago (i think 2016? maybe?), but i've just gotten super into hq again thanks to season 4 ✌.ʕʘ‿ʘʔ.✌ so i've written a little more and decided to continue!
> 
> thank you for reading, i'd love to hear what you think!


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